


Grinders Café

by sugarland



Series: MewGulf Oneshots [3]
Category: TharnType the Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Billionaire-Mew, Family, Fluff, M/M, Single Dad- Gulf, like so much fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:06:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23632813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarland/pseuds/sugarland
Summary: Multi-billionaire bachelor Mew Suppasit meets chronically broke single dad Gulf Kanawut.
Relationships: Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Series: MewGulf Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698562
Comments: 26
Kudos: 528





	Grinders Café

_Grinders Café_

It's a funny name, alright, but Mew has to admit this coffee shop made a good impression on him.

He should have tried it way sooner, he thinks as he heads out with a giant cup of black coffee. The guys who work here are really nice and even though their average customer is not exactly the middle-aged businessman Mew is used to, he thinks he's going to come back. He didn't even know this place existed before the café just next to his office shut down. This one is smaller, but it's just around the corner, and a stroll can't hurt, after so many hours sitting behind a desk.

The new MS Tech phone has just been launched and it already sold out twice. It makes Mew proud, but it's been a couple of intense weeks and now he just wants to relax and take it easy. He's so sick of parties and public events that all he wants is lots of video games and One Piece marathons.

He's so absorbed in his thoughts that he completely misses the person walking in as he exits, and before he knows his coffee is exploding against the innocent passerby's coat. And on his baby's wrap.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” Mew babbles, mortified. He steps back, hands dripping. “Are you okay?”

“We're fine, don't worry.” A pair of brown eyes set on him. The stranger smiles reassuringly, and Mew's knees turn to mush.

 _Oh no, he's hot,_ his brain screams before he has even processed the guy's very attractive features.

He blushes, ashamed of himself. “I wasn't looking where I was going,” he mumbles, picking up the empty cup from the ground. “Is the baby okay?”

The man looks down upon the sleeping child, who hasn't even noticed the fuss around him. Her, actually, according to the name embroidered on the wrap: Emily. “She's fine,” he says amicably. “There's a lot of layers, under here.” His look falls on the empty cup in Mew's hand. “First time at the Grinders Café?”

Mew casts a distracted glance down. “Is it so obvious?”

“I come here often.”

Very intersting piece of information, Mew's brain purrs, and, again, he doesn't know what is wrong with him. He literally just met this man.

“My coffee shop closed down,” he explains. “And I've been told the stuff here is to die for.”

“It is,” the stranger confirms. “I know the owners,” he adds with a nod towards the door. “I'm sure I can get you a free replacement, if you want.”

“I'm all willing to pay for it, if it's that good.” There's an idea dancing at the edge of Mew's mind. It's stupid, but worth a try. “Can I buy you something to apologise?”

The man considers Mew's proposal and after a moment his mouth curls. “I was just going to get my daily cappuccino, so... why not?”

Mew opens the door for him and follows him inside.

He has no idea what just happened, but he's glad it happened.

* * *

His name is Gulf. Gulf Kanawut.

Handsome, sweet, sunny Gulf Kanawut.

He's a single dad living just one block down the street and, apprently, he spends a lot of his time in this café. He's friends with the two guys who run the place and they welcome him with big, bright smiles and a lot of delighted cooing around the baby girl.

The taller one, Boat, takes Gulf's coat and puts it to dry over a heater, while the shorter one, Mild, takes their oders and insists to seat them at the nicest table, just by the fireplace, which has already been properly decorated. 

“Easy, Mild,” Gulf laughs at the man's enthusiasm. “Maybe Mr. Suppasit doesn't have time to-”

“It's okay, really,” Mew assures quickly. “My working schedule is quite flexible. And call me Mew, please.”

“Mew.” Gulf grins, causing a flutter of sparkles in the nape of Mew's neck.

The situation is escalating very quickly. Mew gives himself fifteen minutes tops before this instinctive liking towards the man turns into a crush.

“Is she always so peaceful?” he asks to break the ice, with a nod towards the baby, who is still fast asleep against her father's chest.

Gulf looks down at her with a fond smile. “I wish. She's pretty fussy around midnight, which means that, if I'm lucky, I usually get to go to bed around one. Until she wakes up again at five.”

Mew can't help noticing, not without a hint of satisfaction, that he hasn't mentioned any partner.

“So you're a single parent.”

“Yeah.” Gulf doesn't sound uncomfortable nor sad. “My ex girlfriend didn't want her. She was going to get an abortion and wouldn't change her mind, even if I promised she would never hear from me and the baby again after the birth. When I offered to cover all the pregnancy expenses, she suddenly became much more malleable.”

Mew feels a wave of sympathy and admiration for this incredible guy. “She took advantage of you.”

“I let her.” says Gulf with a light shrug. The baby bounces in her wrap but doesn't complain. “She knew I wouldn't give up on this little one.”

He loves his child, that much is obvious. Mew tries to imagine himself in this situation and realises, with a bit of shame, that he probably wouldn't have been as selfless as Gulf.

“Do you have debts?” he asks impulsively, but it's very rude to ask such a personal thing and he immediately regrets it. “I'm sorry. It's none of my-”

“No, it's okay.” Gulf thanks the waiter – who brought them their orders, then turns to Mew again: “I don't have any debts, but... Let's just say Emmie and I are having a bit of a rough time making ends meet, as of now.” He strokes the baby's back with his thumbs. He has beautiful hands, large and strong, an elegant pattern of veins and tendons well visible under the smooth skin. “But we're trying to stay positive, aren't we, Pumpkin? There's people not half as lucky as we are, out there.” He pauses to drop a gentle kiss on the baby's head, then adds: “I don't care about money. As long as Em is warm and well fed, I'm good.”

Fifteen minutes? Scratch that. Mew is already crushing hard on the guy.

He's mermerised by this man and his unconditional love for his daughter: Gulfsacrificed everything for Emmie without a single regret, and he's staying strong and determined despite the hardship he's constantly facing. And he's happy, and grateful, because, despite not having everything he wants, he has everything he needs.

The exact opposite of Mew.

He thinks of his billions, of his huge, empty penthouse full of useless stuff, and instead of feeling sorry for a man who is raising a daughter alone with limited finances, he feels sorry for himself. Because he's disgustingly rich, and owns a lot of things, but at the end of the day, when he goes home and no one's waiting for him, no one missed him, he has nothing.

“What do you do for a living?”

Gulf puts two sugars in his cappuccino and stirs a couple of times. “I'm a historian. I work for a museum. Mostly research and paperwork. Which is a blessing, because most of my work can be done from home. Or from here.”

“And you're taking care of her on your own?”

“Yeah.” Gulf takes a long sip from his cup. He sounds casual, but a shadow has darkened his face. “I don't really talk to my family, and I don't know many people, here, apart from Mild and Boat and few others.”

“You are very brave,” Mew remarks with absolute honesty, but Gulf dismisses the comment with a modest shake of his head.

“Nah. Just a goner for this little warrior here.”

“Warrior?” Mew's eyes widen. He looks at the baby. “Is she-”

“She's good, now,” Gulf explains. “But she spent her first three weeks in the NICU, and it wasn't fun for either of us. I almost lost her twice.” He seems to zone out for a moment. His fingers dip into the baby's back like he's afraid she might slip away from his arms, then he slowly regains his smile. “She's nearly two months, now, and doing great.”

Mew is vaguely aware of the fact that, if this conversation continues at this rate, he's going to end up on one knee before their cappuccinos are over.

He clears his throat. “I must insist you let me pay for the damage I caused.”

Gulf's chest is shaken by light laugh. “It's very nice of you, but we're not doing that bad.”

“But it was my fault...”

“You wanna do some good?” Gulf nods towards the counter, where Mild and Boat are chatting with a couple of customers. “The guys are collecting money for an animal shelter in their neighbourhood. Give whatever you feel like to their cause, and we're square.”

“Very well, then.”

Mew feels a warm tingle in his heart. There are chances he might be in love. Which kinda sucks, because he's not sure he's ever going to see Gulf again. Unless he starts frequenting this coffee shop. Which he should, since his old one has shut down.

After Gulf leaves, thanking him for the cappuccino and the nice chat, Mew pays for the drinks and inquires about the charity.

“Gulf told me you're raising funds for a shelter?”

Mild nods vigurously. “Yup. You looking for a four-legged blessing for your home? Or three-legged. We have a couple of those, too.”

“Not really, but... I'd like to help. How much do you need?”

“We're aiming for ten thousand. You know, to repair the roof and fix the heating.”

“How much have you raised, so far?”

“About two K,” Boat says. It doesn't sound like much to Mew, but he seems rather proud.

“Alright, then.” He fishes his cheque book and a pen from the inner pocket of his jacket and fills the blank with a five figure sum. “I believe this should do.” he smiles, handing the cheque to the guys. “Have a good day.”

The two men return the smile, then they look at the cheque and pale, until a broad, disbelieving grin appears on their faces.

“Y-you, too, sir!” they exclaim, but Mew's already gone.

He's out in the street, whistling with his hands in his pockets. His phone rings twice, but he ignores it.

He can't even hear it.

His mind is too busy trying do decide if Gulf Kanawut's eyes are light or dark brown. 

* * *

It's almost ten when Gulf finally enters thecafé the day after. He's a little disappointed when he makes it inside without any tall, charming stranger running into him.

He's late because Emily wouldn't stop crying and it took him an hour to get her to calm down and ready to go out. He wishes he knew what he's doing. He loves this kid, but most of her behaviours are still a mystery to him and he needs to perfection his ability to recognise a hungry cry from a cranky one.

All he wants is to drown his frustration in coffee.

When he orders his usual, Boat gives him a weird look.

“What?”

“You know that total hunk that poured his coffee on you yesterday?”

“Yeah?”

“He gave us a fucking cheque for the shelter.”

Gulf smiles. Tall, charming, and golden-hearted stranger. “He wanted to pay for the cleaner's bill,” he explains. “I told him to give the money to you, instead.”

Mild smirks. “Was he going to buy you the whole business?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. He really seemed like a good guy.”

“He did, didn't he?”

“He also seemed very interested in you.”

Gulf nearly chokes on his cappuccino. “Very funny.”

“Come on, man!” Mild elbows him encouragingly. “He's a real gentleman, you should give him a chance!”

“You can't give a chance to someone who hasn't asked for any,” Gulf argues, but Boat winks: “Yet.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“We gave him your number.”

“You did what?”

Boat makes an innocent face: “He called this morning to ask if we thought your coat was salvageable, so we decided it would be easier if he asked you directly. Even if he's straight – and he's not, trust me – it can't hurt to meet new people. He said he's a bit of a loner himself... you could both use a new friend.”

“A wealthy one,” Mild interjects, wiggling his brows meaningfully.

Gulf doesn't know about wealthy, but he could definitely use a friend.

A tall, charming, golden-hearted one, incidentally, with kind dark eyes – Deep brown? Black? - and a smile that could easily light up the whole city.

“What do you say, Em?” he whispers to his daugther while he waits for his order. “Do you think Mew really likes us?”

Emily burbles, suckling onto Gulf's finger. He giggles. “I'll take that as a yes.”

* * *

Mew spends way too long in front of the mirror trying to make his attire appear as casual as possible. It's just a coffee, after all, and he doesn't want Gulf to think he's trying to impress him.

Which he is, but that's not the point.

It's cold, outside, and the jacket he picked is probaby a little too light. He wraps the scarf tighter around his nack and speeds up his pace. He's grinning like an idiot, but who cares? He's too happy Gulf accepted his invitation.

Just a coffee, he reminds himself yet again. Just a mere coffee.

“'Morning, Mr. Suppasit!” greets Mild as soon as he steps inside the café.

“Mew, please,” he greets back. He smells cinnamon and vanilla in the air, something that reminds him of Christmas, even though there's still a few months to go. 

“We can't possibly thank you enough for your generosity, Mew.” Boat has appeared from the back, carrying a tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. “You should visit the shelter, some time. You'd be able to see for yourself that your money was well spent.”

“I'll make sure to pay a visit as soon as possible, then.”

The guys thank him once more, then the bell above the door rings, and there is Gulf, face red from the icy wind. Little Emily is buried beneath the folds of his coat, which, Mew notes with relief, has been washed pristine clean.

“Hey!” The way Gulf's face lights up makes Mew's knees go weak. They stay weak for the whole time, even after they've been chatting for a while.

Mew tells Gulf about his job (omitting a few trivial details, like the fact that the company he works for is his own), about his interests and how he never seems to click with people and prefers books and movies, instead.

Gulf talks about his life before Emily, reminiscing without regret his days as a carefree womanizer. He says Emily made him a better person, and he's proud of it.

“You should be,” Mew says, and he means it. “You have more guts than most people I know.”

“Which is not many, according to Boat and Mild?” Gulf teases, and, oh, Mew is absolutely smitten.

“Touché.”

“Thanks for the invitation, by the way. You didn't have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Gulf smiles, and something inside Mew topples. He never felt like this with anyone before.

“Cappuccino on Monday, coffee on Thursday...” Gulf tilts his head to one side and his smile turns into a smirk. “Should I get my hopes up?”

Mew gulps. This is flirting, isn't it? He's not just imagining it. The choice of words, the tone, the non verbal cues... It's a quite unmistakable ensemble, right?

“There's nothing better than dinner to get one's hopes up,” he suggest, surprised by his own boldness.

Gulf's smirk falters, and so does Mew's courage. What a fool. It was too soon: Gulf doesn't even know him. He ruined everything before it was even a possibility.

“I'm sorry, that was inappropriate. I shouldn't have-”

“No, it's-” Gulf shakes his head. “I'd love to. The dinner, I mean. I was just thinking about Em.”

“What about her?”

“There's no one I can leave her with. Mild and Boat are busy until late, here, and I'm not sure I can trust a baby sitter to-”

“Why would you leave her? Just bring her along!”

Gulf scrutinises him with a glint in his eyes that causes Mew's heart to skip a beat. “Are you sure? She can be quite noisy at times.”

“If they kick us out of the restaurant, I'll just buy it and kick them out.”

Gulf bursts out laughing. It wasn't a joke, but he doesn't need to know.

So it's happening.

The mere thought makes Mew grin like an idiot.

He's taking cute Gulf Kanawut out for dinner.

* * *

Mew's not taking cute Gulf Kanawut anywhere.

Gulf calls the afteroon of their date to cancel because Emily has a light cold and he doesn't want it to risk getting worse. Mew, of course, tells him not to worry: Emily comes first.

He's not mad. He understands. He's just a bit disappointed.

He mopes around his office for a long while before an idea tickles his mind. It's not like a fancy restaurant, but...

One hour later he's knocking on Gulf's door, still not entirely sure this is going to be a welcome suprise. He crosses his fingers, just in case.

There's a sound of locks being unlocked, then the door opens and Gulf appears, wearing just sweatpants and a plain gray shirt that is very flattering for his figure: with all those layers of clothing, Mew never noticed he's in such remarkable shape.

“What are you doing here?” Much to Mew's relief, Gulf doesn't sound annoyed, but actually quite pleased. He glances at the bags full of groceries in Mew's hands and then at Mew again.

“Since we couldn't go to dinner, I brought dinner to you.” Mew enthusastically raises the bags. “Did I mention I'm a superb cook?”

Gulf steps aside and invites him in. “Are you trying to seduce me?” he asks, patting his back with a familiarity Mew didn't realise they had. Not that he minds. “Because you should know it's totally working.”

Flirting? Again?

Mew must be dreaming.

“Where's baby Kanawut?”

“Sleeping, finally. Took me forever to soothe her.”

The apartment is small: a living room, a kitchen and two other doors which presumably lead to the bedroom and bathroom. Mew could fit all of it into his wardrobe and there would still be room left.

Gulf observes curiously as Mew unpacks his purchases and spreads them over the counter.

“Penne, basil, onion, tomato sauce, mozzarella...” Gulf arches his brows. “Are we eating Italian?”

“Are you familiar with pasta al forno? It loosely translates to-”

“Baked pasta.”

Mew turnes to Gulf with an impressed look. Gulf chuckles. “I speak a lot of languages.”

Is that so? Mew thinks, admiredly. “You are an endless source of interesting surprises.”

“I know, right?” Gulf puts his hands on his hips and shrugs in false modesty. “Im fascinating like that.”

Mew is staring. Staring with hazy eyes and an idiotic smile tugging at his lips. “You absolutely do,” he agress. He's pretty sure he is in love.

They look at each other for a long while. There's something there, Mew can sense it. He feels the electricity between them, the heat of Gulf's body standing so close to him. It feels like something could happen.

But it shouldn't. Not yet. There's no need to rush things.

“Do you have a casserole?”

Gulf blinks. His shoulders relax, like he's been holding his breath. “Yeah, sure.”

Mew spends one hour making dinner, teaching Gulf the recipe in the meantime. It's nice to do it in this warm, tiny kitchen, with Gulf hanging around, alone at first, then with Emily propped against his shoulder while he bounces her gently to lull her back to sleep.

It feels pleasantly domestic, this whole thing, and Mew and Gulf are suprisingly at ease around each other – they chat, they joke, they flirt – as if they've been doing this since forever. To Mew, it feels like they have.

When they finally sit down to eat, the whole apartment is filled with the mouth-watering smell of pasta al forno.

Mew and Gulf sit down in front of each other at the table, a bottle of red wine and a bowl of salad to accompany their dish.

It's not a fancy restaurant.

Mew never wants to see a fancy restaurant again.

He likes this.

It's simple.

It's cosy.

It feels like _home._

* * *

After pasta al forno, Mew makes Gulf ravioli alla zucca, risotto alla milanese and spaghetti allo scoglio. Every Friday night, they try a new recipe. Every Friday night, shows up with fresh, prime quality ingredients for his and Gulf's dinner. It's their thing, and he wouldn't skip it for anything in the world.

They're always at Gulf's because it would be stressful for Emily to be moved around so late, especially after she falls asleep. There is also the fact that Mew likes the warmth of Gulf's small apartment, and the sweet, soapy baby scent that fills it. He feels much happier here than in his own home.

“We should at least split the costs for all this stuff,” Gulf says the night of melanzane alla parmigiana. He's washing and slicing down the eggplants while Mew prepares the sauce.

“Sure,” says Mew. “As soon as you let me pay you back for letting me mess around in your kitchen every Friday.”

Gulf barely stifles a touched grin. Mew sees him out of the corner of his eye, turning away to conceal his moved expression. Gulf can't afford this stuff, and Mew won't accept money in exchange for something he takes such pleasure in doing.

“Besides,” he continues, nudging Gulf with an elbow. “I would be all alone at home eating take out, if it wasn't for you guys. Cooking for yourself isn't fun.”

Gulf interrupts the cutting. His expression is soft, full of affection.

“I'm glad I met you,” he mutters. “Not because you bring me expensive food and spoil me and Em rotten. I'm just glad you're in our life.”

“And I'm glad you are in mine. Both of you,” he stresses, casting a glance at Emily, who is slumbering in her seat right next to Gulf.

Gulf's look flickers all over Mew's face. “Both of us, huh?”

“Okay, busted.” Mew rolls his eyes playfully. “I'm only here because you have the cutest baby in the world.”

Gulf snorts. “If you saw her during one of her late night wailings, you'd take it all back. Sometimes I think she's possessed.”

He says this with such love that Mew forgets for a moment what he's doing. Forgets even his own name. How blessed he would be, if he deserved even one minuscule shard of this man's love. “She's very lucky to have you.”

There's a pause. 

All amusement on Gulf's face vanishes. He drops his head, focusing his attention on the slices of eggplant before him. “Sometimes I wonder if it was selfish of me to keep her,” he mumbles. There's a sadness in his voice that hurts Mew in a way he didn't believe possible. “I can barely provide for her basic needs. I'll never be able to give her what she deserves.”

“What a child deserves is love, and she has plenty of that,” Mew protests. It angers him that Gulf feels inadequate. “She lacks nothing, with you. And, who knows, tables may turn, one day.”

He doesn't say he wants to be the one to turn Gulf and Emily's tables. If he confesses this, he has to confess something else. Something he's not quite ready to admit and Gulf is probably not ready to hear.

“Yeah,” Gulf replies flatly. Emily starts fussing, so he picks her up and holds her against his chest. “Maybe I win the lottery.”

Mew wants to comfort him, to tell him it's gonna be alright for him and Emmie, but then Gulf turns to him with glossy eyes and he loses all power of speech.

“My dad is loaded,” Gulf blurts – spits, almost. “But I won't take a single cent from him. I don't want to owe him anything. Unless things get desperate.”

Mew nods sympathetically. He knows nothing about babies, so he can't really comprehend the difficulties of being a single parent. However, he can't help wondering if he would be a good father, if he would be willing to sacrifice his personal time and space to look after someone else or if he would just pay someone to do that for him.

Would he be capable of loving a child of his own like Gulf loves this little one?

“I had no idea babies were so high maintenance,” he comments, bewildered. 

“Neither did I, honestly,” Gulf confesses sheepishly. “Diapers, clothes, food... The formula is riduculously expensive. You'd think there's gold and diamonds in it. But it's okay.” His hand goes to Emily's head, which barely fills his palm. “With a few sacrifices, we're pulling through. Aren't we, Pumpkin?”

“What brand do you use?” Mew asks without thinking. An insistent thought has been twirling in his mind since the conversation started.

“Of formula? Enfamil. Why?”

“I- I have a connection who may be able to get you free samples,” he lies.

“Oh.” Gulf's face fills with genuine gratitude. He pats Mew's shoulder. “That would be awesome! Thanks, buddy!”

Later, at the pharmacy, Mew learns that one pound of the best formula can cost over twenty dollars. Which doesn't sound unreasonable, to him, but he has probably unrealistic standards.

“First child?” the pharmacist asks with a smile when he requests six packs of Enfamil.

Mew smiles back but doesn't answer. He hands his credit card to the woman with an odd buzzing in his ears.

He's never considered himself a fatherly man. To be honest, he never thought about it at all. But suddenly, for some reason, the thought of himself with a child in his arms doesn't seem so alien.

* * *

Gulf doesn't know what this thing with Mew really is.

Since the incident with the coffee, they've been seeing each other a lot, sometimes for their regular not dates, sometimes coming up with riduculous excuses to justify such a strong desire to spend so much time together.

There's something about Mew Suppasit that feels absurdly right, to Gulf: he's cultured and very smart (and Gulf's sapiosexuality is very attracted to this), sensible and sensitive and extremely patient; he's kind and polite to everyone, even when people don't really deserve it, and can always handle things with absolute diplomacy.

He's a decent guy. So decent that Gulf has started wondering if he isn't growing so fond of him a little too quickly. After all, they still haven't discussed the nature of this mutual interest they are experiecing. As far as he knows, Mew might be just looking for a friend. A friend to flirt with. A lot.

Gulf is quite positive they are dating, but they are taking it easy, for obvious reasons. He trusts Mew, but he wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to start a real relationship. He understands: it can be intimidating and most people would hesitate to commit to a single father.

And yet Mew is always very thoughtful when it comes to Emily: he brings free samples of formula whenever he gets any (which is quite often); if they go out for drinks, they always go early and he chooses quiet pubs where she won't be disturbed by heavy noise; if they go for a stroll, he always offers his scarf to grant her extra warmth, and Gulf always accepts, even if it's not truly necessary. Mew has even bought an infant seat for his car, because Gulf once mentioned most taxis don't have it and carrying grocery bags up and down the subway with Emily strapped to his chest is a nightmare. So now for the past three weeks Mew has been picking up Gulf with his car (a very elegant SUV) every Saturday afternoon to go grocery shopping together and he appears very happy to push the cart as Gulf picks what he needs from the shelves while trying his best to stick to his weekly budget.

They decided to try a cart with an integrated baby carrier, today. Gulf sprays disinfectant all over it twice before he agrees to put Emily in it. It makes Mew laugh, to which Gulf replies with a point of his finger: “You try having kids, see how funny it is to see germs everywhere.”

A shadow darkens Mew's features for a split second. He gets wistful, looks at Gulf intently, then at Emily. A corner of his mouth curls. He leans down to mutter into Emmie's ear: “Your dad is a little OCD, isn't he?”

Emmie gifts him with a toothless grin, which makes Mew beam even brighter. “I know, right?”

“What are you two conspiring behind my back?” Guf interjects, trying to put on a frown that, despite his efforts, ends up turning into a grin.

“Uh oh, I think he caught us,” Mew whispers to Emily, but his look is fixed on Gulf, and it's sweet, and loving.

Gulf 's heart quivers.

His mind starts building a scenery where he's not afraid of the future, because he and his little girl are not alone anymore.

* * *

If Friday nights are for cooking at Gulf's and watching nerdy movies, Sunday mornings are for breakfast at the Grinders Café.

It's very croweded during the weekends, but Boat and Mild always have a table reserved for them and as soon as they can they leave the counter to steal Emily and walk her around so that she can admire the decorations shimmering all over the café.

It's a busy morning, today, and it's been five minutes since Gulf went to ask for some warm water for Emmie's formula, leaving Mew in charge.

Mew is nervous: Em is hungry and she's getting impatient. He's trying his best to soothe her in her pram, but it's not working.

“Come on, man, where are you?” he groans. Emmie's crying her lungs out, now. Several people are staring at him, probably wondering why he's doing nothing. He can't see the counter from here, so he has no idea if Gulf has noticed.

“Alright, Ms. Kanawut,” he says in a whisper. “I guess you leave me no choice.”

He stands up and bends over the pram a bit uncertainly: he has no idea how to do this. He tries to mimic Gulf's movements, sliding one hand under Emily's head and the other behind her back. She feels fragile and weightless, squirming restlessly as he tries to adjust her over his shoulder like Gulf always does.

The crying stops.

“Oh.” Mew frowns perplexedly. He tires to draw his head back to check if Em is okay and sees she is, in fact, quite fine. She's making bubbly noises in his ear, apparently pretty content with the new situation.

Gulf arrives one second later, rushing to them all worried and flustered. He stops a few steps from the table, eyes widening. “What did you do to my daugther?”

I... Uh...” Mew blushes. He didn't think Gulf would mind.

“Did you drug her? Did you replace her with a doll? Tell me your secret, wizard!”

Gulf's playful tone makes Mew relax. He adjusts his hand over Emmie's head and grins awkwardly. “I just... I just picked her up.”

Gulf looks as disbelieving as Mew is. “I heard her crying and then it stopped so abruptly...” He eyes his daughter like he can't quite recognise her. “I thought she had passed out or something. She never calms down so quickly.”

Mew feels very proud: Emily likes him; Gulf is impressed. Day made.

“We're good friends, huh?” he says, turning over his shoulder towards the baby. “Aren't we, Em? Tell Daddy we're besties.”

Gulf is staring with his arms crossed and big smile on his lips. “You're good with kids.”

“Really?” Mew lights up. “She's the first baby I've ever dealed with”

Gulf fires a finger gun at him with a wink: “You're hired. From now, no matter what day or time it is, you have to show up whenever she's having a crying fit. Sorry, I don't make the rules.”

There is a number of implications in this statement, however humorous, and Mew wants to sign up for all of them.

Wants Gulf to call him in the middle of the night because he knows he can.

Wants Emily to feel safe and sound in his arms when nothing else will pacify her.

Wants both of them to count on him, always, no matter what.

“You have my number.”

“And don't think for one second I'm not gonna use it,” Gulf replies, and Mew hopes it's a promise.

“Please, do.”

He's ready, he suddenly realises, lost in Gulf's eyes with a throb in his heart.

He wants this.

All of this.

He wants this to be his life.

* * *

Gulf is feeding Emily her last bottle before sleep. One Piece is droning on the TV, but neither he nor Mew are really paying attention. They're too enraptured by the funny noises Emily is making while suckling her milk.

Mew seems hypnotised: he observes every movement Emmie makes, marvels whenever she does something unexpected – a yawn or a whine – and compliments her with a heartful laugh when she burps loudly.

“She's a good little eater, huh?”

Gulf puts the empty bottle down and snorts. “Euphemism.”

They're sitting very close. Gulf is painfully aware of this, because Mew's body irradiates heat like a furnace and he can feel it all over himself, burning against his thigh, his arm, his side. Mew's arm is casually slung along the backrest behind Gulf's head. It's innocent, and he surprises himself when he realises he doesn't want it to be innocent. He doesn't ask for much: just a few inches lower, and Mew's arm would be around his shoulders...

“Hey, look!”

Gulf looks in the direction Mew is pointing to: beyond the windows, fat snowflakes are falling copiously in the black night sky.

"Whoa! Look at that, Em: your first snow!” He takes her by the window and sits her on the sill. He knows she can't understand what's going on, but he still wants her to see.

He feels Mew's warmth behind him. He smiles at his reflection in the glass. Mew smiles back.

It's perfect, Gulf thinks, or very close to perfect.

No, truly perfect, he corrects, when Mew's hand comes to rest on the small of his back.

They look at each other, and for a split second Mew's fingers twitch, like he's not sure he should do what he's doing, but Gulf nudges him with his shoulder and leans back against him. Mew immediately relaxes and slips his arm around Gulf's waist.

Whatever is happening, they let it happen. They stand like this for a long while, watching the snowflakes drift upon the city until a thin veil of white covers everything. Gulf would happily stay like this all night.

He sighs blissfully when Mew's chin brushes the side of his head. He feels Mew's lips move as he sighs: “I should get going.”

“I don't think it's wise to get out there in this weather,” Gulf objects, but what he really means is: don't leave. “I don't have a guestroom, but-”

Mew parts from him to give him a scolding scowl: “You shouldn't do this.”

“Do what?”

“Invite people to stay over. It's not safe.”

“Bro,” Gulf nearly laughs. “We've known each other for nearly two months, now. You're not people. You're Mew. I've seen enough of you to know Em is more dangerous than you.”

Temptation dances in Mew's eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You can have my bed and I can-”

“No, absolutley not. The couch or nothing.”

“You're way too tall for that, man,” huffs Gulf. “You might as well sleep in Emmie's crib.”

His heart flutters when Mew reaches around his waist to tickle Emily's foot.

“Did you hear that, little lady? Your dad wants me to put you in a basket to sleep.”

At this point, Gulf is absolutely positive he's in love. Which is awesome, but it's also quite scary: he hasn't been in love with anyone for ages. College, probably. And back in college he didn't have a little one to take care of.

“Mew.” He steps back and gazes at him. He's pathetically nervous. “I'm sorry if this is gonna sound blunt, but I- I really need to ask. Where is this going? You and I, all of this. I don't wanna pressure you,” he clarifies quickly. Mew seems dismayed. “It's just... my life is already messy enough without me falling for a man who doesn't feel the same.”

Mew's expression stays blank for so long Gulf fears he's lost him. Then his lips start stretching upward. “Well, this is awkward,” he says. “Because I didn't want to pressure you...”

Gulf forbids himself to feel too elated. “I need you to be honest with me. I mean, most people wouldn't want to date a man with a baby. I get it.”

“What are you talking about?” Mew's face darkens. He looks offended. Hurt, even. “I knew from the beginning you and Em were a package deal. I'm not here for a man with a baby. I'm here for Gulf and Emily Kanawut. I care for you both. I love you both.”

Gulf's eyes go wide. He holds onto Emily more tightly. “You what?”

Mew's face falls. “Did I say that out loud?” he babbles embarrassedly, but Gulf just really wants to hug him.

“Please, say it again.”

“I love you,” Mew repeats softly, a stunned smile on his face, then runs a finger over Emily's nose. “I love you,” he whispers to her.

Gulf feels something warm and wet roll down his face. “Did you hear that, Pumpkin?” he sniffles. He cups Emily's small head in his palm and rubs his thumb over the impalpable hair in a loving caress. “This guy loves us. Isn't that the coolest thing you've ever heard?” He bends to place a delicate peck on her forehead, then looks up at Mew, lips twitching into a hint of a smile. There's a question in his eyes.

And as if he can read this question, Mew slowly reaches out and Gulf finds himself mirroring the movement. Gulf's hand is still on Emily's head when their lips meet above her in a light, tentative kiss. It's chaste, just lips meeting lips experimentally, but it's more than Gulf dared to hope for.

When they part, his heart his racing and he has a weird knot in the back of his throat. “We love you, too,” he whispers. He reaches out for another kiss, but Mew gently pushes his back.

“Wait.” His voice is low and deadly serious. “Before you say that, there's something you should know about me.”

Gulf feigns an outraged face: “You're not really into One Piece.”

“No.”

“You killed someone?”

“What? No!”

“You're secretly a time traveller?”

“Gulf, I'm serious, I-”

“I already know, Mew.”

There's a moment of silence. Mew's mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he manages to stutter: “What?”

Gulf shrugs. “It took me a while to figure out why you kinda looked familiar. Then a couple of weeks ago there was a picture this big in the newspaper: MS Technologies CEO M. Suppasit. I felt stupid for not realising it sooner.”

Mew swallows. His eyes fill with fear. “I didn't want to lie to you. Please, believe me, I wanted to tell you but-”

“You must be sick and tired of gold diggers.”

“No! I mean, yes, but... the reason why I didn't tell you was that I was afraid it would ruin everything. That you'd think I just wanted to fool around with you.”

“I could never think that of you,” says Gulf softly as he raises a hand to pat Mew's arm.

“So it's... it's alright?” Mew asks uncertainly. “You're not mad?”

Gulf chuckles: “Believe me, there are worse things in life than finding out your boyfriend is a billionaire.”

“Oh my god, this is such a relief. You have no idea how nervous I was to-” Mew's head snaps up. “Did you just say boyfriend?”

Gulf adjusts Emily in his arms and addresses him a sultry look: “Don't get all worked up, big man. Em and I only want you for your money.”

“Great,” Mew breathes hoarsely, staring into Gulf's eyes like he's drowning in them. “It's all yours.”

And then Gulf hooks an arm around his neck a pulls him down to kiss him again, this time more passionately, more intimately. Mew kisses back, wrapping his arms around Gulf and Emily to bring them closer to him.

The snow keeps falling outside.

With a warm flutter in his chest, Gulf muses that, after all, there is no need for anyone to sleep on the couch.

* * *

Mew has never spent a day with any strangers, and never in an animal shelter.

There's a lot of people, many of which he's seen at the Grinders Café, and everyone has brought something to eat or to drink. Some of the dogs and cats have been let out of their spaces to share the celebrations with the humans who contributed to make their refuge a better place.

Gulf has a cup of punch in his hand and is chatting with Boat across the room. He winks when he notices Mew is looking at him.

Mew grins.

“It's nice, isn't it, Em?” he says. Comfortable ensconced in the crook of his arm, Emily stirs sleepily. He walks her along the cages of the least fortunate animals – the ones who aren't healthy enough or tolerant enough to join the party – and stops before a pair of yellow eyes staring at him from behind the bars.

“Hey, there,” he greets. The cat purrs.

The tag says it's an eight-year-old female who was run over by a car and left in the street to bleed to death. She's missing a hind leg and half her tail.

A three-legged blessing.

“I know that look,” an amused voice says behind his back. Mew turns around: Gulf is smirking at him. “That's the look you had when you met Emmie and me.”

Mew pretends not to get what he means. “So?”

Gulf doesn't buy it for a second. “So,” he replies, scratching the cat's neck with a finger. “She's a keeper. You're already in love with her.”

“You always say my apartment is cold and sad.”

“It is.”

“This sweet little lady will warm it up. You will, won't you?” he coos at the cat, who's rubbing herself against the bars to allow him to scratch her better. Yes, he's definitely in love.

Gulf crosses his arms and shakes his head with a fond smile. “You're such a dork.”

“But I'm _your_ dork,” says Mew, holding out his hand. Gulf takes it, kisses his knuckles.

“Yes, you are,” he says. “All ours.”

They share a meaningful look. Mew coudn't agree more.

He smiles to himself.

_All yours._


End file.
